


Depression, my old friend.

by fictionalabyss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Singer (mentioned) - Freeform, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalabyss/pseuds/fictionalabyss
Summary: IDK, I wrote this when I was going through one of many depressive slumps. That dark fuzzy cloud blanketed everything and for weeks I had no interest in anything at all and I needed a friend. So I wrote this, and forced myself to start my healing process and eventually came out the other side.





	Depression, my old friend.

You use to work alone. That was until the depression and anxiety got so bad Bobby shoved you on other hunters. The Winchesters, actually. You had tried to fight it, but there was no fighting Bobby.

That was a long time ago. Your anxiety got a lot better and fast, since the boys kept you on your toes. Sam would insist on slapping you in a pants suit or pencil skit and throwing you out into the field to question people with him or Dean if he felt you were avoiding the out doors too much. And their on and off pranking kept you from being anxious about every day things and more anxious about what they’d do next.

You loved it. It was tough love but it was love. It was the push you needed to get better, and eventually you got off your meds. It’s been a year and a half, and the boys were so proud of how far you came.

So proud, in fact, they hadn’t noticed you slipping back into the depression. You didn’t know why, but it was there, inviting you back and you couldn’t say no.

You still traveled with them. Smiled and laughed with them. You ate when they put food in front of you, and drank a bit with them. You’d blush, and flirt, and joke. Like everything was fine, but nothing was.  

They showered first in the mornings to head out, and you would shower after they left, you were on research duty. It took a few days, but Dean started to notice first that you were still in pjs when they came back. He knew you had showered, but you’d get right back into lounge pants and a t-shirt afterwards, no plans to leave the motel room.

Sam started to notice the lack of interest in pretty much everything. Food being the first, then he noticed you no longer excitedly told him about what you had read, seen or learned that day.  

He glanced at Dean as they walked into the room, a worried look on his face. Dean sighed as he pulled off his tie. “Write anything lately?” Sam asked. He knew you had been writing small stories out of their cases. Posting them online in a forum as fiction, mostly to keep yourself focused on something. It was one of the things that had helped knock you out of your depression.

You looked up at him, your laptop was open as if you were writing, but you weren’t. He had finally noticed. He knew the answer by the look on your face but he waited. “No.” you answered softly.

“How long?”

You licked your lips. “It’s been slow about two weeks. Stopped altogether a few days ago.”

“What’s going on sweetheart.” Dean sat across from you, his shirt partially unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up and a beer in his hand.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “I really don’t. I just feel…” You sighed.

“As bad as it was?” He asked.

You shook your head “No. I just feel bored with everything. I got discouraged and frustrated with one thing, and it kind of just spread out over everything. I started forgetting small things, not feeling motivated enough for others… I _thought_ I just needed time but it’s dragging on and getting worse.”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?” You shrugged as a tear ran down your cheek. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and you all but ran to them, sitting in his lap. “We’ve got you, you know that right?” You nodded into his chest as you cried.

Dean knelt down on the floor behind you, his hand gently rubbing your back. “When you figure out what you need, sweetheart, you tell us. Anything at all. You mean the world to us.”

“Just.. don’t let me go. Don’t let me feel alone.” You wrapped your arms around Sam tighter.

Sam kissed the top of your head before leaning his cheek against it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
